Naïveté
by Vaecordia
Summary: Ivan sighed, wanting nothing more than to slam the receiver into its place and find forgettance at the bottom of a glass of cheap whiskey lit red by dimmed lights. (Based on "But It's Better If You Do" by P!ATD.)


Based on the song "But It's Better If You Do" by Panic! At The Disco. Set in about the 70s (in a universe and time when male/gay strip clubs were not *officially* criminal, but any excuse would be good enough to raid such a place, to go with the video). (This is kind of angsty/unhappy, more so at the beginning - I get sappier towards the end).

 **Warnings** : uhm, not a lot in this one tbh, some slightly sexual _themes_ but nothing explicit.

* * *

"Alfred, I'm in a meeting," Ivan hissed into the payphone, trying not to let his temper rise and attract attention. He looked up, the only light the old streetlamps above him. "It's running late. I don't know when I'll be-"

 _"Do you even try any more? Or are you gonna get married to your goddamn business?"_

"Alfred-" Ivan sighed, wanting nothing more than to slam the receiver into its place and find forgettance at the bottom of a glass of cheap whiskey lit red by dimmed lights.

 _"When's the last time you were even around for dinner, Ivan? You leave before I wake up, and you come home after I'm gone!"_

"Do not blame me for your night-shifts." Ivan's anger was rising, irritation rearing its claws in his tone.

 _"You know what? Fine, I don't care, lie as much as you want, because I hope you realise I can always smell your breath when you come home."_

Ivan leaned against the payphone stand, beyond caring of Alfred's words. "And how do you think I manage to make as many deals as I make? By treating the businessmen to a bottle of Coke? Don't be ridiculous." Ivan scoffed. It was futile, he knew, but for some reason pretending felt easier than facing the music.

Alfred laughed coldly at the other end of the receiver. _"Fine. Fine. Take all the time in the world, it's not like we could have a life to live, you know?"_

A hollow click and the dead dial tone only made Ivan question why they kept it up, when everything had spiralled into such a mess, and _how long_ they would keep it up. Alfred's night-shifts as security guard and Ivan's long days with the company kept them apart for most of the day, if not all of it - unless Alfred woke up early or Ivan woke when Alfred came home.

Ivan replaced the receiver with enough force to make it rattle slightly, and pulled his coat closer to himself. He glared at nothing in particular, before his vile habit came to itch at his mind again - something he'd tried to get rid of, but only seemed to grow more dependent on as time passed, as days turned to a grey blur, as his relationship seemed to wither to nothing.

He crossed the street and allowed his subconscious to direct him to the narrow side-street, the ill-lit doorway, the depraved haven of cold neon lights, hidden faces and hollow music. He found the bar and ordered a strong drink, and allowed his eyes to wander to the clumsily young figure on stage. Her attempts at sensuality often fell short, but few in the joint seemed to care as she exposed her chest, and Ivan averted his gaze when his drink arrived.

Her performance ended and the music stumbled into another beat, and he briefly glanced up at the next dancer - a man, this time - and was momentarily transfixed by his vulgar, deliberately exaggerated motions. His outfit was uncommon, laced-up boots with histrionic heels, a corset that accentuated his lithe body, and a subtly ornate mask that concealed his face behind a complementary smirk and bangs of gold, tinged red by the dim light.

Ivan had forgotten how carnal desire felt, but staring at the erotic scene before him he was reminded of it. He had forgotten when he'd last felt passionate, but the man reminded him both so much and so little of Alfred that his resolve wavered. He finally turned to the man behind the bar, and for the first time didn't consider any repercussions as he asked whether the man had private audiences.

A positive response, and his attention turned back to the enticing show, and it was all too soon that he was making his way to the back of the joint, and was led to one of the rooms. He was told this man was keen on anonymity, and was handed a plain, black mask. He arched an eyebrow, but the other man simply shrugged. He placed it on his face, and was allowed into the room.

Ivan seated himself in the worn armchair, that had probably once been plush and almost luxurious, but now merely added to the almost derelict indecency of the place. A few moments later, the door behind him opened, and he heard distinct, defined footsteps coming closer.

"What can I do you for, tonight, Mister?" A carefree, lilting voice asked him, and he allowed himself to fall into the act, the pretense, the forgettance. There was a light hand on his shoulder, tracing a swirling pattern across his back. "You got 'nything special in mind, or d'you want me to surprise ya?"

The words were so similar to something he had once heard, something said by another mouth, in another voice, and he pushed away the intrusive memories. "Surprise me," he answered in an indulgent, low voice. There was a loud _bang_ from the outside of the room, but Ivan ignored it as he felt the performer's hand drift around him, and the man came to face him. His features, what was visible of them, were strong and striking - a defined jawline, the mischievous curl of his lips, eyes that glinted behind the mask…

The performer swung a leg so that he stood above Ivan's legs, and made quick work of straddling him. He rolled his hips downwards and Ivan's eyebrow swung up to an an intrigued arch. His tie was gripped, a gentle hold but with vice-like undertones. The sound came again, and when Ivan's eyes drifted from the performer his gaze was quickly pulled back.

"Don't mind the outside world, I'm here and now." The other man rolled his hips again, and Ivan felt pure want burning within him. "You know, customers don't often catch my attention," the performer said, his amused voice a decadent melody to Ivan's ears, his lips tracing the curve of Ivan's jaw. "But you, sir, certainly have - and I wouldn't mind throwin' in a little extra if you're lookin' for a good time," he finished, and Ivan felt the smirk against his skin.

Ivan inhaled the captivating scent of the performer, and threw every caution, every worry, every memory to the wind. Perhaps, he could forget, if just for a moment. "I would certainly not object," he stated, but paused briefly. His hand almost reached up to touch the other man, but refrained.

He laughed. "You can touch," he said.

Ivan's hand drifted to the almost faultless cheek. "Would it be too much to see the face of such a transfixing man?"

An eyebrow quirked up. "You know, I like you already enough to grant you that - only if you let me see you, too."

Ivan smiled. "I have no objections to that," he stated.

The other man grinned before capturing Ivan's lips into a kiss - searing, lustful, scorching desire reminding him _why_ he was here - and his hands came behind Ivan's head to untie the knot of the plain mask. Ivan did the same, and when the other man released Ivan's lips the masks fell away.

And every deceit along with them.

Alfred stared right at him, his expression quickly falling away from sultry to shocked. It was a blur of movement when Alfred scrambled off of Ivan, silent shock having taken over both of them.

At that same moment, the door of the room opened violently, and three police officers streamed into the room. It was a stream of shouts and both men being wrestled into handcuffs, Ivan trying to get to Alfred and trying to injure the officer holding him while Alfred was more than happy to kick at an officer's shin with his heel - only to be caught again by another two, but not without shouting obscenities at all of them.

It didn't take too long before they were dragged into the main room, where one officer explained to the furious bartender that the establishment was raided because of illegal activities, and they were soon brought outside into one of the cars parked there, both unceremoniously shoved into it.

When the doors were closed, there was a moment of silent fury before Alfred whirled on Ivan.

"What the hell, Ivan?!"

Ivan's defences went up immediately. " _Me?!_ You're the one working at a strip joint! It's _illegal!_ "

Alfred scoffed indignantly, incredulous. "Well you were the one who's payin'!" Alfred paused, disgust coming to his face. "You paid to cheat on me!"

"With you, apparently!" Ivan retorted. "How can I be sure you haven't cheated on me time and time again, if whenever a customer catches your attention you decide to become a bit more _acquainted_ -"

"I'm not a _whore_ , Ivan," Alfred growled.

"I never said-"

"Don't insinuate it, either," was snarled, and Ivan huffed. "How long have you been coming here? Is this where you go whenever you 'have a meeting'?"

Ivan paused, and having previously opened his mouth to retort, he quickly snapped it shut. "How long have you been lying to me about your job?"

"Well I gotta earn something someway!"

"Not by lying to me!"

"Says the bastard who gladly would have cheated on me!"

"What does that make _you?!_ "

"I - that's - real mature, Ivan," Alfred hissed back and resorted to staring at the seat in front of him. Ivan only now seemed to remember the very… ah… audacious outfit Alfred was in. Alfred noticed the silence. "Stop staring!"

"Well, you forget there _is_ a reason I… er…"

"Requested me?"

Ivan hesitated. "Yes."

Alfred huffed, before glaring at Ivan.

"Well, I mean, I guess we're both even?"

"You lied to me about your job, I lied to you about my meetings, you almost… cheated on me with a customer and I almost cheated on you with a - an entertainer," Ivan finished.

Alfred snorted. "That-" He snorted again, as if trying to hide a laughter. "Okay, well, you say it like that, well it's," he coughed, "it's a bit stupid," Alfred finished before glancing at Ivan. They both burst out laughing, and Ivan now remembered why he had once decided to spend the rest of his life with Alfred.


End file.
